


there'll be a riot, 'cause i know you

by braver



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braver/pseuds/braver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry feels like an idiot. The assuming kind.</p><p>"I'm an idiot," he tells Niall woefully.</p><p>"No," Niall cackles while Harry frowns. "You're just not Irish."</p><p>"I hate you so much," Harry reaches out to pinch Niall's arm. "I've got enough Irish pummelled into me - " he blushes and raises a middle finger at Niall when his grin turns filthy. " - I'm basically Irish. But like, adopted."</p><p>(or, harry finds out niall isn't taking him to the irish community reception and is kind of upset about it)</p>
            </blockquote>





	there'll be a riot, 'cause i know you

**Author's Note:**

> this fic took me wayyy too long to write, considering that it's 2.5k of plotless narry haha ANYWAY
> 
> title is from robbers by the 1975, because...obviously
> 
> this is for my squad, thanks for letting me annoy you with my fic woes!!!
> 
> (ps this was barely beta'd so all mistakes are mine oops)
> 
> posted on my [tumblr](http://niallsaintlaurent.tumblr.com/tagged/reg-writes-fic) as well!

Niall narrows his eyes at the mirror. He’s been locked up in the bathroom for longer than necessary, which is dumb because he’s very nearly ready – suit's on, shoes are laced up, hair's done (in record time, thanks to that quick trick Lou taught him) – but  _fuck,_  why can’t he ever get his tie right?

“D’you need help with your tie, babe?”

Niall makes a face at his reflection because  _of course this would happen_. He ignores Harry and tries to straighten his tie for the fifth time, when there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Ni, please let me in. I know you need help, you’ve been in there for hours and we know how shite you are at those ties,” Harry whines through the door and keeps on knocking. Niall can almost picture him splayed against the door because Harry’s all for the dramatics. “Babe, baaaaabe, Niiiiaaaaallll – ”

Harry comes tripping in as soon as Niall opens the door.

“Were you standing there the whole time?” Niall asks as he barely catches Harry by the elbow before he brains himself on the counter.

Harry flushes a bit as he tries to right himself, and Niall raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, kind of?” he says shyly. Niall’s about to tease but Harry cuts him off, frowning at his chest. “Your tie is crooked,”

Niall groans, “I know, can you please – “

It’s funny, somehow, because Harry’s already reaching for his tie.

Niall thinks about how weird it is, how quickly he and Harry had developed this co-dependent lifestyle where they just  _know_ what the other needs. It’s not as if their relationship came as a surprise to anyone, really. They were practically attached at the hip way before all the kissing and fucking and eventually the more complicated feelings happened. But it’s still so new to Niall, how easy this all is, being with Harry. It’s nice. He'd like to keep Harry around for a while, as long as he'll have him really. But Niall's not going to tell him that just yet.

“So,” Harry clears his throat.

Niall flounders a bit until he realizes that Harry’s done fixing his tie. He also realizes, a little belatedly, that he had been staring at Harry the whole time (based on the way Harry’s cheeks have gone a lovely shade of pink, at least.) Niall grins at his boyfriend and reaches out to brush his thumbs against the heated skin when Harry yelps and grips Niall’s wrists, pulls him back to the bedroom, cheeks going darker and hotter.

“Anyway! Let me come see you properly, bathroom’s got shoddy lighting.”

Niall rolls his eyes because Harry’s already seen this suit when he tried it on at the shop, made him model in it when they got home too.

(And Niall nearly fucked him in it, since Harry had begged so nicely –  _You look so good, babe, please_  – but they both knew the suit'd get ruined because Harry’s got the grabbiest hands and sometimes he forgets to warn Niall when he’s about to come and just –  _well_ , he’d rather not have to explain to everyone why his suit's all wrinkled with very suspicious stains on it, especially not to the Queen.)

“Alright, alright,” Niall says and steps back a little for Harry to get a good look at him, but not enough for Harry to let go of his wrists. Now that he thinks about it, Harry’s never actually seen him properly fixed up. Not like how he is now with his hair done up and his feet clad in Italian leather shoes. “How’s it?”

Harry’s eyes rake him slowly once, twice, before he looks back up at Niall and absolutely beams at him. “You look so handsome,” he says softly, a small smile on his face as slides his hands down to press his palms against Niall’s and interlock their fingers.

Niall smiles up at him, pulls Harry closer so the tips of his ridiculously expensive shoes touch the ends of Harry’s mismatched socks. He leans up a little to press their foreheads together, “Good enough for the Queen, you reckon?”

Harry nods eagerly, smiles and whispers, “I might have to make sure she doesn’t steal you tonight,” he tells Niall and his voice is so serious that Niall has to laugh.

“Don’t worry babe, you’re the only royalty meant for me,” he replies, gives Harry a quick kiss, whispers against his lips, “My pretty princess.”

He revels in the way heat settles high on Harry’s cheeks, the way he giggles softly and tries to elbow Niall in the gut but they both know how much Harry loves being called that. So Niall takes advantage of their closeness to press his lips against Harry’s, more purposefully this time, and Harry sighs happily, slumps a little to get a better angle.

“ _Whattimeisit_?” Niall mumbles when he realizes that his lips have gotten a little numb, probably red and slightly swollen, and _great_ , his face is probably flushed too. Harry whines when Niall stops kissing him but mutters that it’s probably half six. Niall’s eyes widen and he pulls away completely, “Shit, m’gonna be late!”

Harry blinks slowly and runs a hand through his hair. “Relax babe, we’ll get there in time,” he says, still a bit pouty because he doesn’t like Niall too far away from him.

“No, I – shit, I gotta go,” Niall paces around the room looking for the things he needs to bring, nearly grips at his hair until he realizes that he probably shouldn’t ruin it. "I'm going to miss the Queen!"

“You won't miss anyone, you oaf," Harry rolls his eyes and shoves at his boyfriend before finding what Niall's been looking for. "Just let me get ready. Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes,” Harry says as he hands Niall his phone and wallet, smiling slightly when Niall crows happily.

“Thanks, love.” Niall pecks him on the cheek, then pauses. "Wait. I thought we were taking separate cars?”

Harry’s already at the bathroom door but he stops before he can grip the doorknob, “Why would we take separate cars?”

“Was I supposed to drop you off?”

“Wait, drop me off?” Harry asks, turns around to face Niall. “What?”

“Yeah. At Lou’s thing?” Niall asks, just as confused. “Her book launch party...thing?”

And,  _oh._

“Oh. Right,” Harry grips at the doorknob, mumbles something under his breath.

“Louder, Harry, please.” Niall prompts, a jiggling his leg a bit like he always does when he’s late and a little impatient.

“I, um, shit. I thought I was going with you? Like, to the reception? As your, uh, your plus one?” Harry says as quickly as he can and fuck this is embarrassing. “S’why I thought we were going together and uh – yeah.”

It makes sense now that Harry thinks about it. How Niall hadn’t pestered Harry to start getting ready thirty minutes before Niall would because he knows how long Harry takes. How Niall hadn’t asked Harry what he was wearing or if he could Google the quickest way to get to their destination just to be sure they wouldn’t be late. And all the things Niall would do when he and Harry would go out together.

And it’s not like Niall actually  _asked_  Harry if he’d like to come with him to the event.

Harry feels like an idiot. The assuming kind.

"I'm an idiot," he tells Niall woefully.

"No," Niall laughs while Harry frowns, "You're just not Irish."

"I hate you so much," Harry reaches out to pinch Niall's arm. "I've got enough Irish pummelled into me - " he blushes and raises a middle finger at Niall when his grin turns filthy. " - I'm basically Irish. But like, adopted."

Niall snorts. “You can’t be adopted Irish, don’t be stupid,” he says, rolls his eyes for the nth time that night. “Besides, no one’s going to adopt you.”

“ _Hey_ , take that back,” Harry says and crosses his arms huffily. “Everyone wants to adopt me. I’m like, the perfect child they never had.”

“You’re so annoying,” Niall groans and looks at the time then groans again. “Maybe I should just marry you so that way you’d shut the fuck up and you’d finally be considered an Irish citizen through naturalisation, yeah? Happy times for everyone,”

Harry freezes, and Niall doesn’t seem to realize he’s just caused his boyfriend to go into cardiac arrest, because he just goes right on.

“Or, well, you could drink like, fifty pints of Guinness. Practically the same thing,” Niall shrugs, as if he hadn’t just kind of proposed to Harry. Or, talked about marrying him just to shut him up. Whatever. When Harry doesn’t reply, Niall uses it as an opportunity to escape. He checks his phone one more time before sticking it back in his pocket. “Look, babe, I need to go but we can research on the easiest way to turn you Irish tomorrow, alright?”

He says this so nicely while giving Harry a soft peck on the cheek that Harry forgets to slap him in the balls for being a fucking idiot.

-

Once Harry recovers his motor skills he decides that, yeah, he should probably get ready for Lou’s party.

He makes sure to angry-text Niall first though.

_(19:02) :: Hiiiii you’re a dickwad and I hate you! :D .x_

**_(19:09) :: hahahhhah eat my big WIENER ! Haha! Love you babes_ **

-

Lou’s party isn’t Harry’s thing, is the thing. Well, it is, but he spends most of it sulking and mass-texting Niall.

“Alright. Time to stop, big boy,” Ed says and plucks Harry’s phone out of his hand which,  _rude_ , because Harry was just about to send Niall a photo of that really interesting stain on the wall just to make him jealous. Ed sighs, pokes at Harry's dimples when he says nothing, “C’mon, let’s get you pissed.”

“Nooo, I don’t want to,” Harry whines, “I still haven’t shown Niall my outfit and how much comfier it is and that I win because I don’t have to wear an uncomfortable suit.”

(Harry’s never going to tell anyone that he actually had one custom made for the reception.  _Never_.)

“You do look very comfy,” Ed notes. He frowns at the scarf wrapped around Harry’s head but decides to say nothing. “But Niall’s probably really busy right now. Besides, he’d probably want you to take a shot or ten, for his sake.”

“Too busy with the Queen, the fucking wanker,” Harry says under his breath and Ed just throws his hands up in defeat.

“Oh my god. Lou!” Ed calls out and Harry immediately feels fingers pinch at the small of his back.

“Harry, I love you, but I swear if I hear you whine one more time I will make sure your dick gets tattooed in your sleep.” Lou hisses into Harry’s ear before pinching harder. "Now can you please pretend to enjoy my party like the absolutely lovely friend I know you are?"

“Fine. Let’s get wasted,” Harry says when he jerks out of her grip and pouts, “but don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

“Whatever,” Lou shrugs and walks away while Ed crows and drags Harry to the bar.

-

_(22:46) :: Niall I hate you_

_(22:50) :: I’m just kidding I love you. A lot.x_

_(22:52) :: BUT I STILL HATE YOU FOR NOT INVITING ME TO YOUR IRISH SHINDIG_

_(22:52) :: IM IRISH_

_(22:53) :: ADOPTED IRISH_

_(23:12) :: Anyway Ed’s buying shots bc GUINNESS IS FOR PISSBABIES_

_(23:40) :: i thnk Lou’s mad idk i’m a bit drunk and it’s not my fault I feel like dancing._

_(23:57) :: why does evryone have colored ombre NIALL can i get my hair colored_

_(00:01) :: Ed says Id look cute with pink hair :) :)_

_(00:10) :: gemma says Id look like an idiot :((_

_(00:34) :: Liams here w sophia hes in a beanie_

_(00:35) :: i told him he looked silly.he said i was drunk and to shut th fuck up_

_(00:49) :: Look at this photo of the stain onn the wall that looks like that birthmark on your bum!!!!!so cute_

_(01:15) :: Ok. I’m going home now m tired and i think lou wants to kill me_

_(01:44) :: U should come home now.Im in bed, does tht sound sexy yet? Ha!_

_(01:48) :: Im cuter than the queen :( :(_

_(01:48) :: NIALL come home i miss u im SORRY :( :(((_

_(01:50) :: askdnis/73!,@/""/_

-

It's half past two in the morning when Niall gets to home, and he immediately makes his way to his and Harry's bedroom.

He finds Harry curled up under the sheets reading The Scarlet Letter with Niall's prescription glasses on, because  _of course he is_. He's still on the same page as he was weeks ago if the worn out dog-eared paper is any indication.

The sight fills Niall with this irrational fondness that he only ever feels around Harry.

"Your eyes are going to get ruined using my glasses," he comments from where he's leaning against the doorframe. Harry peers up and sticks his tongue out at him, but slips the glasses off anyway. Niall laughs a bit, "Are you still drunk?"

Harry sets down the book slowly, thoughtfully, before shaking his head.

"Are you still sore about a while ago?"

Harry pouts but shakes his head again.

"Are you still mad at me?" Niall asks as he loosens his tie, makes his way to Harry.

"No," Harry says softly and makes grabby hands at Niall, "I wasn't really ever mad at you."

Niall smiles and toes off his shoes before sliding onto the bed. "I'm still sorry, though," he says and pats at Harry's knee over the duvet. Harry slides his hand down to lace their fingers together. "We can have another ‘Irish shindig’, with you this time. I'll arrange it myself, make you feel like royalty even."

Harry laughs because he knows it'll probably be some night out at a pub with the London Irish Crew and knows that he’ll probably find himself trying to get out of Bressie’s impressive headlock, and Niall and his friends will be incredibly loud and ridiculous and  _very embarrassing_  (and oh  _god_ , he can already imagine Niall making him wear a tiara and a sash while his friends bow and call him 'their royal highness'  _at a pub_ ) but he finds himself not minding at all. He’s rather looking forward to it, actually.

He tells Niall just that and feels his heart swell up when Niall  _positively beams_ down at him.

“Oh, shut up - ” Harry mutters even if Niall hasn’t said anything, a little shy because Niall’s looking at him as if he’s hung the moon (which is funny because he thinks the same about Niall). He pulls at their linked hands until Niall’s practically on top of him. He runs his fingers under Niall’s pressed collar and tugs at it so he can press a kiss to Niall’s lips, “ - and make an Irishman out of me.”

Niall barks out a laugh. “Sure thing, princess,” he presses his whole body up against Harry’s, with more purpose this time. “But only if you properly ruin my suit. No Irishman does it half-arsed. First lesson in Irishisms,” he says and Harry grins filthily, grips at the back of Niall’s neck.

_“Gladly.”_

-

Later on, when they’re both sweaty and sated under the covers, Harry feels Niall’s lips against his shoulder, his neck, the corner of his mouth. He mutters a soft  _I love you_  that gets swallowed by another kiss that Harry presses against him, but that's okay.

Harry knows it anyway.

//


End file.
